


They say it fades if you let it

by jperalta



Category: Chilling Adventures of Sabrina (TV 2018)
Genre: Blood, F/M, Guilt, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Implied/Referenced Torture, Monologue, Nightmares, Painful Sex, Past Rape/Non-con, Psychological Trauma, Rape Recovery, Self-Hatred, Sexual Assault, Suicidal Thoughts, Trauma, Victim Blaming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-04
Updated: 2021-01-04
Packaged: 2021-03-15 04:08:07
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,664
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28557372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jperalta/pseuds/jperalta
Summary: Suddenly I was free but it didn't make any sort of sense. And I'd had it so instilled within me that what was happening was right - that I deserved it. It felt wrong of me to exist without it all happening. And I could see you were worried, I could see you cared but I hadn't experienced anyone feeling that way towards me in... in what felt like lifetimes.Nick gives a monologue to Sabrina about absolutely everything he's been meaning to say regarding what happened with Lucifer in hell, and after he got back.
Relationships: Nicholas Scratch/Sabrina Spellman
Kudos: 11
Collections: hekiv's CAOS collection





	They say it fades if you let it

Sabrina, listen. First of all, I'm sorry I hurt you. I truly am very sorry about that, and I regret all of it. You meant a great deal to me - you still do. You trusted me and I broke that trust and I am so, so fucking sorry. I'll never be able to forget that look of utter betrayal you gave me. That look that made me realize how much I'd fucked up, how much _I_ was fucked up.

But... I wish you would understand. I wasn't in my right mind. And I'm not trying to make excuses, I just want to explain. I had just come out of being tortured relentless for what felt like eternity. And Sabrina, I know you don't want to hear it and that I've never actually said it to you, and again - I'm sorry, but... Lucifer? He... he _raped_ me - constantly, literally. And he made it hurt, as much as it possibly could. He made me feel like I deserved it too, because I was nothing. Because I was worthless, useless, and horrible. Because something was _wrong_ with me from the day I was born, and it was all just leading up to this... this... punishment. And somehow within all of it, I started to believe him. I really did. Maybe because it's literally the only thing I was told for god knows how long.

So I finally got out, and I still felt so hopelessly sick about it. About everything. I was scared, so fucking scared of everything. I couldn't even wash myself without my own hands scaring me. I really hope you never know what that's like, the horror when walking around any corner, when in any room without light. Suddenly I was free but it didn't make any sort of sense. And I'd had it so instilled within me that what was happening was right - that I deserved it. It felt wrong of me to exist without it all happening. And I could see you were worried, I could see you cared but I hadn't experienced anyone feeling that way towards me in... in what felt like lifetimes.

I could tell I was upsetting you with how I was acting, how I was dealing or not dealing with everything, and it made me despise myself that much more. I was angry with myself for not adapting, for not getting over it all and loving you like I had, making you feel happy and comfortable like I wanted to. I was free, right? So why did I still feel so stuck? So worthless?

So then I ended up reminding myself what he had told me. That I was nothing, that I deserved pain and to be miserable, to be so horrendously violated and demeaned and hurt. So I... I went to Dorian's, and I did what you saw. I felt I needed someone to punish me again, to hurt me, to make me feel how he had made me feel. And they tried, but it obviously wasn't the same. They'd hurt me, make me bleed, make my whole body ache, but there were always, you know... safe words, and check-ins, and when I said I didn't want them to do that, they said they couldn't. That there had to be some sort of safety or precaution set in place. Not just for me, but for them too. I'd start... weeping and just, totally losing control of my emotions again, and they'd stop to ask if I was okay, if I wanted to keep going. But it was never a want as much as it was a need, and I couldn't explain that to them. I couldn't explain that to you. I didn't want to make you feel any worse than you already did. But I couldn't just get back to how things were. Everything had changed.

Then you ended it. As you had the right to do. It felt like I'd lost everything. Or more so that I never even had anything to begin with. And Lucifer, I'd hear him in my head. I don't know if he was still actually there or what, but I'd hear him. I'd hear him reminding me that my life was pointless, that all I ever did was cause pain and suffering to those I'd loved. All I knew anymore was fear and sadness and loneliness. Even when I wasn't alone, it'd still feel that way. Like I was just separate from everyone all the time. And even though it was supposedly over, ever after I finally got the freedom I'd been begging for for so long, nothing felt different.

When paying or begging others to hurt me didn't work, I'd hurt myself. In any way you could imagine. From knives and scissors to holding my breath as long as possible, to whips and belts and thinking of spells to do on myself or filling my pockets with rocks then walking into the water and seeing how long I'd last.

I'm sure I would have killed myself if Prudence hadn't started taking care of me, and I of her. We were both so broken, so hurt. And as much as I needed to be looked after I think what helped more was taking care of someone else. Proving that I could be useful again, that I could be a good figure in someone's life. That I could feel something other than that sadness and fear - I could feel hope, and I could feel love for other people. So with Prudence, and my other friends, I slowly started remembering that I didn't deserve all that had happened to me. I wasn't dirty, or hopeless, or the scum of the earth like I previously thought. I was a friend, and I was helping someone, and could be helped by others.

It was slow and difficult to relearn everything I thought I knew about myself, and of everyone else. I learned how to be alone in my own head without hearing his voice ridiculing me at any possible moment. I learned how... how to let other people touch me and hold me without breaking down into tears, without flinching or wanting to run away or to scratch my skin off of my body. And I learned to associate that touch with love, with friendship, with kindness instead of shame, or evil, or just pure pain and desolation.

I was with Prudence, but I knew she didn't love me. And I didn't love her either. I still loved you, like I always will, I'm sure of it. I just couldn't subject you to what I was subjecting myself to. I couldn't show you that hurt and horrible part of me, the part that was just looking for a roundabout way to die, as quickly and painfully as possible. You had other things to deal with, and you still do. I'm not telling you any of this to make you feel guilty. I'm just telling you all this because I want you to know that it wasn't you, but I also wasn't a sex addict. I was hurting, majorly, like I had never hurt before. I was trying to figure out how to live again, with myself and everyone else, and it was all so impossible. I was trying and failing to recover from the single worst thing that's ever happened to me, that will ever happen to me.

I look back on that time and I can understand it now, why I was acting like that, when before it all felt so chaotic and I hated myself more than I ever thought possible. But that version of me, he was scared. He felt like the only person in the world, and was blind to anyone else trying to tell him otherwise. Every other thing happening felt unimportant. Not food, or my health, or my relationships... not anything. Any attempt I made at first to get better just reminded me how far I had to go.

And now this version of me - I'm not cured, or entirely recovered. I'm not sure if I'll ever be truly recovered from something like that. But I know now that how I was feeling was normal for someone who had gone through what I went through. I couldn't have been any different because I felt like I was hardly conscious most of the time. And whenever I did have a moment of clarity all I could see was you, or anyone else, looking at me like I was the worst person in the world, like I'd just violently attacked everyone or threatened to blow up the world.

There was a time when all I wanted was your forgiveness. But you don't have to forgive me. You don't have to tell me that what I did was okay, because you know what? I've forgiven myself. I'm tired of being mad at myself for trying to cope. I'm tired of trying to reverse all the damage I did. Maybe I shouldn't have told you any of this. Maybe I should have waited to see if you'd figure it out yourself, like I had to. But I have people in my life who love me, who don't even come close to understanding but who don't need to in order to love me, in order to appreciate how much I struggled, how difficult everything was for me.

I can finally breathe again. I can finally get through a whole night of sleep without waking up screaming. I can recognize what I need and who will help me. And I don't need you in order to make me feel complete, or finally fixed. I just want you to know - fully - what happened, how I felt, and how I'm feeling now. I want you to know that mixed up in everything that happened I still have this love for you, and I hope you still have it for me. I just wanted you to know.

**Author's Note:**

> i.e. an essay; title: arcade fire - crown of love; feel free to request additional tags


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